Whispers
by theramblingfangirl
Summary: Words, gossip shared between friends or whispers that were meant to be heard. All can wind up having a much more substantial impact on a person than was ever intended. And Anders has just heard something that he will never be able to forget, setting off his own whispers in his own mind.


Did you hear what they're saying about the Champion?

"The Malificar. I heard he's possessed. That the reason behind all of of his victories is demons."

"I heard Templars saying that too! I don't think I was supposed to because they were whispering but...Surely it can't be safe to let an abomination roam around?"

"It's not safe to let any apostate roam around, never mind that. But don't you worry your pretty little head. I heard the Templars aren't going to let that stand much longer."

"They're going to apprehend him?"

"So I've heard. Can't say I'll feel sorry when they do."

* * *

The scene was playing over and over again and again in Anders mind and it wouldn't stop.

He'd been waiting for Hawke at the bar. It had been a quiet day and when hours had gone bye without any patients Varric had practically dragged him out to there to "relax" before Hawke arrived.

It was supposed to be a nice surprise.

And then he'd heard that.

He'd been out the bar before the conversation had even finished, ignoring the protests of Varric and doing his best to keep down a reeling Justice, despite his own anger at the unjustness of it all. He could feel the fade pressing just bellow the surface of his skin and he could not afford to slip here. Not yet.

So he'd gone home.

Hawke had of course, noticed something was wrong as soon as he'd arrived at the estate. Kind, intuitive, wonderful Hawke who cared for everyone and always knew how and took the time to make Anders feel at least slightly better.

Not that anyone outside of their little group Hawke had taken to dubbing "The Kirkwall misfits" seemed to care about that.

All they saw was a dangerous apostate who was built like a brick wall.

That was all they would ever see.

But he was still the one who had lied to Hawke.

Said he was just tired, that he'd had a hard day with nosy Templars getting close to his makeshift hospital. There was no need for Hawke to have to worry about him any more than he knew he already did. He was the Champion, a hero, he had much more important things to worry about than him.

So really, it was for the best, that he didn't know.

He didn't think Hawke really believed him when he did. Even the dog caked in Maker knows what seemed suspicious. As much as a mabari could anyway.

But the subject was dropped for now as he'd agreed to go to bed, Hawke looking visibly surprised for a second before that familiar goofy grin that Anders loved so much appeared on his face and he'd started gushing about self-care and slipping in a lewd joke as they made their way to the room.

Anders couldn't quite bring himself to look his lover in the eye.

* * *

Hawke was, of course, completely unconscious within mere seconds of his head touching the pillow, snoring and with a hug around Anders that were both equally fitting for his almost bear like appearance.

Normally Anders might have struggled with such a tight hug. Felt trapped, confined, reminded him of his many, many escape attempts which had ended with him being grabbed by Templars so tightly he almost couldn't breathe and hauled back to the Circle.

But not tonight. Tonight, it was comforting, it served as a reminder that this was all real, Hawke was real and nobody had taken him away.

The word yet sprang to his mind.

Hawke wouldn't last in a circle, Anders knew it. No matter how much Hawke said he sympathised with what Anders had gone through, he couldn't ever really fully understand. Not that Anders could fault him for that and it could hardly be said that there'd been a lack of trying on Hawke's behalf, but he'd never grown up there, experienced it himself and learned how to avoid attracting undue attention from the Templars.

He'd be too loud, he'd cause too much trouble he'd...

An unbidden image flashed before his eyes of a Hawke with a blank-face- no more goofy smiles or any of his wonderful, terrible jokes- and a star branding his forehead.

...End up like Karl.

Again Justice reared and this time Anders let him knowing Hawke was a heavy sleeper. And with that decision, there were cracks of the fade appearing in his skin and awashing the room with a familiar blue light.

And then neither could tell who was speaking, for his and Justice's thoughts both echoed the same words.

"It is unjust, even after all you have done they see something only to be feared and hated! They will not have you my love! They will never have you! The Templars will never have any more Mages, I will **not** allow it!"

Tomorrow they would go back to their manifestos, to try through writing and peaceful persuasion to convince the Grand Cleric and people of Kirkwall to no longer turn a blind eye to the wrongs served day after day, hour after hour, minute after minute upon their people. To convince them how mages weren't all dangerous, they could do good, be good!

Their people would have justice. Their people would have freedom. Mages would be able to live freely, love freely and not have to constantly fear that it might be ripped away from them at any moment.

And that, that was no lie.

That, that was a promise that they had every intent to keep.

...No matter what it cost them.


End file.
